Last Light(48)

I closed the bedroom door behind me. I stood with my ear pressed against it.

No sound.

I stood like that for fifteen minutes. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Mel had deceived me. She wasn’t simply a fan of my writing. She had an online presence, some silly blog. If she wanted to out me as the author of Night Owl—and as being alive, for that matter—she had an audience ready to listen. Fuck.

Plus, she acted like a thirty-year-old on the phone. I’d been duped.

The smell of garlic drifted down the hall.

I stormed back out of my room.

Mel stood at the stove humming and doing salsa steps, her hips swaying. I blinked. She’d removed her coat and wore a tight black sweater with a silver skull on the back.

“Stop dancing.”

She whirled. A piece of scrambled egg flew from her spatula.

“Unless your name is Hannah, this is a no-ass-shaking zone.” I padded over to inspect Mel’s cooking—a heap of scrambled eggs.

“Want some?” she said.

“No.” I popped a piece of egg into my mouth. “Yes.”

She made two plates. I pulled out a chair for Mel and took the opposite seat. As I was shoveling a forkful of eggs into my mouth, she said, “Do you mind if I say grace?”

I paused and regarded Mel from across the table. She held out her hand. After a space, I nodded and took it.

Her hand was tiny and feverishly hot.

For the first time in a long time, I lowered my head for prayer.

Mel began. “God is great, God is good. Let us thank Him for our food. Amen.”

“Amen,” I said, and I finally smiled.





Chapter 27


HANNAH


Chrissy dropped me off at the condo. We had a tense, silent ride home after I bawled her out for bailing on me. “Did something happen with Seth?” she said. I told her no. I told her it was the “principle of the matter.”

My heart was still speeding.

I climbed the steps to my door and fit the key in the lock. I wondered how much longer Seth would be in town. He had a gig, he said. Singular. One gig. If I had to guess, it would happen tomorrow or Saturday.

So I needed to sneak into the agency by the back door tomorrow, get to the release party on Saturday, stay in on Sunday, and hope to hell that Seth was out of town by Tuesday.

Then I would spend the week watching The Surrogate destroy the bestseller list.

I smiled as I let myself into the condo. Yes, and then Friday would arrive and I would see Matt, and forget about all this confusion with Seth.

“You look happy.”

I jumped and screamed, the sound somehow airless. Oh, God. Oh, my God. There was a voice, a figure where none should be—a man in my condo—this is happening, this is happening.

All my instincts for self-preservation fled.

“Hannah, it’s me.”

My eyes adjusted marginally.

Matt stepped in front of a window and a streetlamp lit his profile.

I couldn’t suppress my panic.

Matt … he shouldn’t be here.

“It’s me,” he said again. “I didn’t want to turn on any lights.”

“How?” I said.

“I got a cab. Hannah, relax. I just got a cab. I had to see you.”

I flattened myself against the wall. Adrenaline stormed through me and I laughed. God, I felt strange and wonderful. Terror mingled with desire, mingled with happiness.

Matt advanced, tugging me into his arms. I wriggled in his hold. Helplessly, I remembered the way Seth felt as he pressed me close—the way my struggling excited him.

Matt tilted his head. His eyes flashed in the dark.

I kissed him, my tongue lashing across his mouth.

“Do it,” I whispered. “I want to fight it.”

Understanding dawned on Matt’s face. A smile moved his lips. My heart thumped, and I felt his beat harder against my chest.

“You remember our word?” he whispered.

I nodded. He meant our safe word, peaches, which I chose not long after we moved in together. Matt worried peaches might sound too much like please, but I wanted peaches, and so it was peaches.

Besides, I never needed the word. Not yet.

“Say it,” he murmured.

“Peaches.” I tried to pull out of his arms. They tightened around me and I gasped.

“Run away,” he whispered in my ear. “Make this good for me, Hannah. Make me believe you don’t want it. Fight me.”

He gave me a push and I stumbled into the wall. My purse fell.

I was viscerally reminded of Seth’s force, and of Nate with his black hair. This hour is dreamlike, Matt once said when I arrived at the cabin, and nothing feels real in this light. I understood as we faced off in the condo. Nothing feels real. The light goes out. We can be whatever we want to be.

I sprinted past Matt, my boots sliding on the hardwood.

The bitter taste of panic coated my tongue.

My night picked up where it left off at the mall. I was being chased. A stranger wanted me. He wanted to touch me in the most intimate way, and I wouldn’t let him.

I flew into the office and locked the door. Papers rustled in the dark. I never worked in this room, never sat in this room. The memory of Matt lived here.

I crouched in a ball behind the desk, my breasts pressed into my knees.